Malec-Ten Steps To Fall In Love With A Warlock
by Scarlett Lucky
Summary: Ten moments which signed and will sign the lovestory between the demon hunter Alec Lightwood, and the High Warlock Of Brooklyn, Magnus Bane. MALEC. Step Four: Coming Out.
1. Step One - First Meeting

_**Step One ~ First Meeting.**_

_«There's someone in my head , but it 's not me»._

_[ Brain Damage - Pink Floyd, 1973 ] ._

Lately things in his life had started to go the wrong way more than usual, and the blame for this was attributable to a single name: Clarissa Fray. The aforementioned person, being a mere mundane - he could not really explain how could ever Shadowhunter blood flow in the veins of such a useless human being- had threatened to make him and his parabatai to prematurely lose their lives, claiming also that they would have infiltrated to a party of warlock of questionable fame only to recover her stupid memories.

In fact, the thing that most bothered him was that Jace, _his_ Jace, ran after the girl without any qualms, obeying every senseless request without batting an eyelid, which, in his opinion, it was really worrying. In fact, if he had learned something about Jace Wayland in all the years they spent together, this was that his brother did not like to take orders from anyone, especially from a girl: it was always a great comfort to him, especially if he kept into account that the interest of the boy for a given female subject did not last more than a week.

Yet something in his eyes as soon as he had crossed the figure of the mundane - dressed in clothes more suited to a strip club than anything else - had left him with a deep sense of dismay at the bottom of the chest. Jace could not be his blood brother, but he still was his parabatai, his most trusted companion, due to the bond that held them together and that made them closer than two real brothers. Alec would have put his own life in his hands without a moment's hesitation if he has asked; he would do anything for his sake and his sister. Yet he had never seen him giving someone a similar look, even to him, and the thing, as much as he hated to admit it, had tormented him until that moment of the evening. Why Jace had never looked at him with that intensity? Why it had never happened to see that spark of desire in his eyes when his golden eyes rested on him? The affection that the hunter felt for him was undeniable and had been unaffected since they were children, but then how did that girl suddenly plunged into their lives unleash in his parabatai feelings comparable only to his own feelings for him? Because he saw him, he knew him too hard to not understand that he was falling in love with her as it had never happened, but it was a truth too painful to accept without a rational motivation that would explain everything.

§

The drum & bass music was transmitted to a volume that it shook the floor beneath his feet, but, paradoxically, more than annoy him it helped him avoiding uncomfortable thoughts. The loft was packed with Downworlders dressed with the most unlikely colors that danced to the rhythm of the music, sipping occasionally something liquid -looking which didn't look very reassuring. A sigh escaped spontaneously from his lips when he saw Isabelle dancing and clinging to the friend of the Mundane, who clumsily tried to imitate her movements, but his attention was magnetized by the gaze from Jace, who, until then, had been committed to discuss with the girl with the singular figure of what they had discovered to be Magnus Bane, the author of the block in the mind of Clarissa and the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

For some reason he still could not explain, his figure had hit him in a special way: a mass of black hair kept in disordered spiers by tons of gel on top of a slender body with amber skin and ringed hands. It almost didn't surprise him founding himself looking at him while arguing with the mundane and with Jace, after all, a figure like that could not go unnoticed even by a great effort of will - in that case totally absent. He sneakily observed the aquiline profile, pointed teeth white as ivory in a delightful contrast with his dark skin, oriental shaped eyes of a gold -flecked jade glinting in the dim light of the room and decreed, almost reluctantly, as if he were doing a disservice to the angel-faced boy whom he loved now for a lifetime, that the warlock was especially nice. And his remarks would have stopped there if the girl had not spoken out of turn again.

«All my life I felt that something was wrong with me. Something was missing, something damaged».

She had blurted out angrily, as if she had been the only person to have problems with herself in that room. He didn't' even know what strength he had kept him from screaming against her and revealing to all her blatant ignorance in matter of diversity, because she could not understand what it meant to not feel accepted even by themselves. Yet, almost as if a mysterious karma had decided to come in his rescue, Magnus exploded with a muffled growl, full of rancor, directed more to himself than to the girl.

«When I found out what I actually was, just a half-human being, I hated myself. And anything is better than this».

That was the moment he saw it for the first time in the eyes of the warlock, the sadness, the quiet pain of those who had to live for centuries with the heartbreaking knowledge that they could never be considered normal, same as the others. Alec had never been able to accept it at all, not even when he had confessed to his sister of being in love with his best friend rather than any girl his age, even when she had embraced him, saying that it did not change anything and that he would always be the brother she loved. He could not help it if he felt deeply wrong, because the only person who could comfort him could never be his and no one among those who were close to him could understand what it was like to not be able to ever give peace to himself. Magnus was right, there was nothing worse than hating themselves and perhaps it was because he knew what it was like that he spontaneously repeated the same words that Isabelle had used with him.

«It was not your fault. You cannot decide how to be born».

When the warm, golden irises like flames in the darkness of the warlock rested on his ones, blue and clear as the sky on a cold winter morning, with an intensity with which he could not remember ever being looked at, he could not prevent the blood from rushing with vehemence to his cheeks, making him blush . That night he avoided with all his strength to cross again the eyes of the son of Lilith, but he was unable to avoid thinking about it again and again, until his eyes, feverish for the pain, met again those murky golden irises illuminated by the first light of dawn, looking at him with a well- concealed apprehension, while in his mind kept coming, as fast as the frames of a movie, angel faces and feline eyes.

* * *

_**~Welcome To The Jungle.**_

Yes, I know it's been a while since I've published something here, but now I'm back.(as if someone cares xD) And here's the first of the ten steps of Malec's lovestory, I hope you've liked it as much as I liked writing it. I know my English is not perfect but if there are any mistakes I'd be glad if you make me notice that, it would be very helpful. :)

See you in the next step, and leave a little review, you'll make a desperate (?) ficwriter happy for a while. :)


	2. Step Two - First Date

_**Step Two ~ First Date.**_

_«Was it love, or the idea of being in love?»._

_[A Momentary Lapse Of Reason - Pink Floyd, 1987 ]_

Alec Lightwood really did not know what had possessed him. If his head had actually worked as it should have, he wouldn't have proposed the unreasonable idea of presenting himself - still limping - at the door of Magnus Bane's loft and ask, with a boldness that he still didn't know he possessed, nothing less than an appointment. The weirdest thing, though, was that the warlock had accepted without fuss, signing the deal with a kiss - his first kiss - that the young Nephilim would not forget easily. It was something unusual, unexpected, a little like tasting for the first time an exotic fruit flavor, but also nice, so nice to drive him to repeat the gesture of his own volition. And now here he was, walking, with an unusually uncertain and still a bit lame rhythm, the busy streets of Downtown Manhattan. The sun had just set behind the towering skyscrapers of the Financial District, and had painted the sky in a beautiful navy blue that faded to a deep orange as his look approached there where the disk of the dying star would be. Alec did not go out very often from the Institute, with the exception of a few visits by Taki, and he would have found that panorama worthy of being remembered, if it wasn't that he was late for his first date and that he had not the slightest idea what this could deserve to him.

The place that the warlock had chosen for their dinner was an Indian restaurant in Murray Street, a street that in the evening turned out to be unexpectedly quiet, if you excluded the occasional passage of some cars. From their previous encounters Alec had intuited without too much difficulty that Magnus Bane was an eccentric person who loved being at the center of attention, but he didn't really expect to find him at the entrance of the restaurant decked out with those who had the air of being clothes stolen to some sultan of the ancient East . The High Warlock of Brooklyn, in fact, wore cream-colored baggy pants held in place by a bronze colored sash under an incredibly tight knit of the same color. The whole thing was completed by a jacket of the same color of the pants and pointy slippers. Alec looked at him with an expression mixed between sincere dismay and embarrassment, avoiding that his gaze dwelled even imperceptibly on the flat abdomen and muscles of the just mentioned sorcerer, whom the jersey made much justice to. The Hunter felt a sudden interest in his worn-out tennis shoes, in a vain attempt to hide the slight blush that insisted on taking possession of his cheeks. That evening, unlike his fellow appointment, he had simply bothered to wear a pair of jeans that were less worn than others and a t-shirt with short sleeves that still retained a trace of its original black. The warlock's feline irises gleamed like flames in the darkness, giving him a look that had something mischievous.

«Well, well. Good evening, Alexander», he greeted him separating from the wall which he was backed on up to a few moments before.

Alec, once assured himself that the complexion of his cheeks was back to the usual moonlight-pale color, looked up at his interlocutor.

«Hello. Sorry, I'm late».

The warlock looked at him with a vaguely amused look, as his presence was a more than pleasant accident. The young Nephilim had never had any major problems observed in feeling observed, but that night he could not help but feel in awe under the gaze that the son of Lilith gave him.

«What is it?», he finally asked to break the embarrassing - at least for him - silence arisen.

Magnus's smile widened. «Nothing», he replied, amused, after a while, getting closer and raising his chin with a ringed finger. «I'm positively surprised, you know».

The Hunter looked at him questioningly, embarrassment and curiosity painted in blue irises. It was unusually difficult to maintain concentration, when the son of Lilith watched him with that.

«I thought you would not have presented, Shadowhunter», continued the warlock as if to answer his unspoken question.

The young Lightwood did not know whether to be offended or not by the man's lack of trust in him, but he was naturally regarded as the sons of the Angel had never been particularly well-disposed towards the Downworlders, which was why Magnus had all good reasons for being so distrustful towards him.

«But here I am», he replied, lapidary, with a half-hearted shrug. He could have sworn he saw a spark of wonder through golden eyes of the other, soon replaced by his usual cocky expression.

«Well, Alexander Lightwood, shall we come in? ».

§

The interior of the room, curiously run by a couple of Werewolves from Bombay, it was cozy, furnished with dark wood tables divided by brightly colored booths and banquettes in shades of orange and red that reflected the warm colors of which were tinged walls. The whole room was enveloped in a warm and soft aura, as well as unexpectedly quiet: the room was not full, but many tables were occupied by Werewolves, Vampires, Nixies, faeries and Donworlders of all kinds, all intent on conversing with their dates. The owners welcomed them with traditional Indian greeting, muttering something between their lips, that looked a lot like a "namaste", accompanying them to a table in the back of the room, whose booth featured an impressive architecture almost certainly Indian whose name escaped him .

«That's's the Taj Mahal», said Magnus noticing the drawing on which he had stopped his gaze. «It is a mausoleum built in 1600 which is located in Agra, India».

«It 's very nice».

«I watched its construction. I must say that in photography is better than live».

«What?», the cerulean gazed Hunter was kindled by genuine astonishment. «But it must have centuries and centuries , how can you - ».

The warlock chuckled at the look of the boy. Alec was just seventeen, but was forced to behave like an adult, and yet, looking at that moment, it was natural to think that this young man, who was so similar in appearance to Will, was just a kid who still had to learn many things of the world.

«You forget a detail, young hunter. As the Handsome High Warlock of Brooklyn, the undersigned is immortal».

«But that means you have something like four hundred years, and …».

«It's not very nice to ask the age someone on the first date», interrupted Magnus mischievously making him blush to the tips of ebony hair. He did not understand why, but he liked too much teasing that young son of the Angel. Maybe because that sheepish grin made him look handsome enough to be able to destabilize a man with centuries of love stories behind him as he was.

§

«Alexander, maybe you should stop drinking...».

«Just ... Just another sip, _hic_».

Their dinner was spent peacefully between the delicious and spicy dishes of the restaurant, or at least so it was until Magnus had ordered a bottle of Arak, a great Indian liquor. He knew that the Shadowhunters were allowed to drink alcohol very early, but he never imagined that one sip after another, in a vain attempt to turn off the effects of spicy, Alec ended being totally drunk. It was for this reason that, with a patience worthy of a mother who scolds his son, he had paid the bill and dragged the young man out of the room, looking for a more secluded street where to open a portal. After all, he could not allow the young hunter returned to the Institute in those conditions, it could arouse suspicion that he surely would have preferred to avoid. Everything would have proceeded to duty if it had not been that, at the exit from the room, a Werewolf far more drunk than Alec had decided to pick a fight with them, and especially if that Nephilim, generally quiet, did respond to the provocation of the Downworlder that, furious, had lashed out at mid- pack. Magnus could get rid of that annoyance with just a snap of his fingers, but he was pretty sure that transforming a werewolf in a Spaniel or a pug violated at least a dozen laws that were part of the Accords, and it was for this reason that he was forced to run through the streets of Downtown Manhattan, dragging an Alec Lightwood that gradually began to dispose of the effects of alcohol.

He turned quickly to the right, taking refuge in an alley full of rubbish between two tall red brick buildings. He crouched against one of the walls, pulling at his side the young hunter, now sober enough to realize that it was necessary to make absolute silence, if he didn't want to be identified by the finest hearing of the group of Downworlders. For a moment that seemed eternal there was nothing but the soft sound of their breathing, interrupted occasionally by some police sirens in the distance and by the voices and hurried footsteps of the Werewolves.

«Hey, what happened?», asked a man with a deep voice, confused.

«I have no idea, I had seen them go this way», said a woman, probably indicating the end of the road. The Luck, who had finally decided to come to their side, had wanted that the alcohol had numbed the senses of their pursuers, causing them exceed them without even deigning to look he inside the alley. When they were sure that the road was deserted, Alec leaned on his knees.

«If you have to, I beg you not to throw up on my shoes», said Magnus with a tinge of amusement in his voice. He didn't remember spending such an absurd night at least since he got drunk along with Woolsey Scott, and that was really something.

A guttural sound coming from Alec called his attention: the young hunter was on his feet, his hands still on the abdomen cutlery that contracted rhythmically in what was a half-hearted laugh. His smile reached his blue eyes, now clear as a cloudless summer sky, illuminating and infecting the warlock, genuinely amused. When he finally managed to stop laughing, he focused voluntarily, for the first time since they left the restaurant, his eyes on the son of Lilith, almost seeing him for the very first time. He saw his slender but toned figure against the brick wall, the spiers of black hair mixed with the jade and gold of his irises glinting in the shadows of the alleyway and felt the same feeling that had led him to take his shirt and kiss him that day in his loft. He didn't know if it was love, or the idea of being in love with someone who was not Jace which prompted him to do it, but he knew only that he wanted to do it. He pushed Magnus against the wall, noticing how he was a couple of inches taller than him and how their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly. A strange light lit his cat-like eyes before their lips met in a sort of controlled urgency. For the moment, Jace and the rest of the world were something that he didn't care about.

* * *

_**~Welcome To The Jungle.**_

And yes, here's the second step, I hope you like it. Yeah, I know that Cassie Clare has written a Bane Chronicle on Malec's first date, but, actually, I had written this step before it came out, so... I hope it's not boring, I really tried writing something funny but I don't really know if I actually made it. xD As usual rates & rewiews are always appreciated. ;) See you on the next step!

_Scarlett_


	3. Step Three - Mourning

_**Step Three ~ Mourning.**_

«If I were alone, I would cry».

[ If - Pink Floyd, 1970 ]

The great appeal of human beings had always been their mortality: the life of mankind, compared to that of other creatures in the world, or even to the one of the world itself, seemed like a very small thin , but no less significant. The existence of a man was comparable to that of a white star: extremely refulgent, but also extremely short. Living forever, perhaps, was much more attractive, or maybe not. Or at least so it seems when you realize you are "forced" to survive the people you love. It was for this reason that he decided that he wouldn't deal with Nephilim another time: it seemed that death felt a fatal attraction - literally, in this case - for the children of Raziel, to the point that you were not in time to become attached to them that they were already gone forever.

Yet that famous promise was broken by falling in love with Alec, who, as a good Hunter, risked his life every time he set foot outside the Institute. The thing that most surprised him was that that boy so sweet and devoid of malice, in addition to his eyes - a blue so intense that reminded him of the sky on a hot summer afternoon -, it was his unwavering sense of duty, which forced him, most of the times, to carry a burden too heavy for his eighteen years. In the relatively short time in which they had been seeing each other, however, he had never heard him complaining of his own free will, and had always been forced to pulling things out of his mouth every time he noticed that his irises were veiled by a dark shadow, eyes marked by deep circles. And Alec had not succumbed to the tears and to the pain even when he held in his arms the lifeless body of Maxwell Lightwood, his younger brother. It happened at that time that Magnus understood that, mortal or immortal that he was, the death could take away his beloved ones in any moment, as well as had happened to that boy. He could accept him replacing Robert as the head of the family, or him risking his own life following his parabatai in one of his suicidal hunts, but he couldn't really bear to see him so empty, expressionless, in an attempt to soothe the pain of everyone except his own. As it might have sounded cruel, he wanted to see him cry, cry for the life that was extinguished too early to really enjoy life, no matter what as long as he proved to be alive, to feel something again. But he maintained that look as tough as the adamas of which were made the angelic swords that he wielded with such skill, his eyes grey, in contrast with the clear sky. There was something sadly ironic in the fact that the sun was shining on the green meadows of Idris in a day as painful as that: leaden clouds and heavy rain would have been much more appropriate, because it would have meant that the sky was crying instead of Alec.

After the funeral, he searched the young Nephilim between the dark faces of the people crowded around the pyres, but there was no trace of him. It was in that moment that Jace, still busy receiving condolences with Robert and Maryse, flashed his eyes to the north, where the hills surrounding Alicante stretched as far as the eye could reach. His heart almost skipped a beat when, having finally tracked him down, he found Alec lying on the cinnabar green grass, the whites still wearing white mourning clothes, fast asleep. The purple circles under his eyes, darker than usual, made him easily understand how the young man had not slept all night, as if he feared that the images of Max's body to come back to haunt him in his dreams, just like at that time. Even before the brain gave him the precise order, his legs carried him to sit beside him, welcoming, with a delicacy that he had forgotten to have, Alec's head, gently caressing the soft ebony strands, murmuring softly in a language which was older than the world itself, until the body of the young hunter did not relax .

«... Magnus?», he murmured, his voice slurred just because of sleep, without showing the blue irises .

«Shh, Alec. Sleep, I'm here now».

He would have granted Alec all the time that it was in his power, all the time to decide the fate of their relationship, because he could not claim that the pain of bereavement would vanish overnight as snow in the sun. He had already passed that kind of situation, he had already seen all the people he loved die before him, but he knew that the silly, stupid Nephilim who had put him in a position to fall in love as he had never done in eight hundred years, unlike him, hadn't the whole eternity to heal. Yet, when he had clung to him, trying to contain the tears that he was no longer able to hold back, he could not help but hope that, despite everything, he would have chosen to stay with him.

* * *

_**~Welcome To The Jungle**_

Yeah, I know it's really short, but I hope you'll forgive me if I say that I'm gonna post soon the fourth step, which is ready. The subject is really common but I hooe you have liked it, because I think that, despite, everything, it's kinda sweet (and the next one will even sweeter, you'll see). Thanks to everyone who's following and leaving reviews to this story. See you in the next step!


	4. Step Four - Coming Out

_**Step Four ~ Coming Out.**_

«Together we stand, divided we fall».

[Hey You - Pink Floyd, 1979]

He had begun to come to terms with the truth in the moment when he realized that even the idea to indulge his parabatai, kissing him, gave him a strong sense of nausea, as if there was something terribly wrong with it. Jace argued that believing of being in love with him was a simple and believable excuse to face the fear of the unknown, because he was his brother since they were eleven years old, because he was his twin in battle, because he was a safe, steady presence, which he knew and which, in its own way, he could rely on. It was in that moment that he realized that Magnus, who in common with Jace had only one enormous ego, had the opportunity to be his future, a future that could have never had with his parabatai.

But the confirmation of the fact that that warlock, with no trick or deception, had occupied a rather substantial part within his heart, he had it in the Hall of Accords, when Clary had drawn a rune that he had never happened to see, a rune from the ancient meaning, yet difficult to understand at all. Beside him, as vivid as if it was real, had suddenly materialized the figure of Magnus, black hair tied in a sleek ponytail, the usual smile with a hint of malice on the lips, feline eyes rimmed in black veiled by a centenarian melancholy that characterized him behind his well-researched joie de vivre. Yet he knew that in that room there were only members of the Clave, and that Magnus could not be there, but it was looking around that he realized something was wrong: the other Shadowhunters appeared confused as much as him, each with his eyes fixed in an apparent vacuum, an unspoken happiness mixed with pain, memory, apprehension, hidden behind their deliberate composure. Then he saw a dismayed Amatis Herondale murmur the name of Stephen, her late husband, and he understood that the rune was able to make them revise the person they loved most in the world, alive or dead that it would be.

The fate would wanted that, a few hours later, when the sun was beginning to set over the horizon, his eyes met in the same room, the figure - this time in person – of the said warlock, leaning to one side to a wall while Hunters and Downworlders burned into each other's skin the symbol of their alliance. The battle that awaited them that night would be the last of their lives, and to have even a little hope to win, it was necessary to be united in one compact front against Valentine. Alec could have found the death which all Nephilim would be proud to die of, a death in battle. What was the point, then, of remaining silent? What was the point of keeping everything hidden? He didn't want to die with the regret of not having said all that Magnus had to know, and he didn't care that doing so would have on him the eyes of the inhabitants of half Idris. He went to the warlock, taking him aside without a word.

«Alexander, what's happen -».

«I want you to be my companion in battle», he declared brandishing the gleaming adamas stylus.

Magnus looked at him genuinely surprised. «Are you sure ? Nobody forces you to choose me».

«Yes , I'm sure».

With the same grace and precision with which he handled the blades of the seraphim, Alec engraved with fire the delicate but at the same time strong lines of the Alliance Rune. A twinkle crossed the eyes of the son of Lilith, who, after having taken the instrument, reproduced with incredible accuracy the symbol on the arm of the young Nephilim. It was the strangest feeling that he had ever happened to feel, similar to the one experienced only the first time that Magnus had kissed him: he felt something unusual such as adrenaline coursing through his veins, together with a caramel scent unusually familiar. He looked at his face and it was like seeing the warlock for the first time, in all his eternal and exotic beauty.

«Before, when we were fighting against the demons, you said you loved me », he began safe, as if he had tried that speech dozens of times in front of a mirror. «Tonight I may die in battle, and if that happens I don't want to have any regrets». He paused for a few seconds, as if he was looking for the right words. «I want to be with you. No matter what you think or what the Clave might tell to my parents, I want to be with you».

Magnus, unexpectedly, smiled. «I was afraid that you wouldn't ever tell me that, Alexander Lightwood».

It was foolish, for his part, to continue denying something so obvious until that moment. It had been foolish and selfish. He had put in difficulty Isabelle and Jace, and probably Magnus, who had candidly admitted of loving him, had to suffer the same. But at that moment he felt light, as if the weight that oppressed his chest and prevented him from feeling at ease with himself had suddenly evaporated. Was this what it was like to love a person? He felt so drunk with happiness, light but at the same time on the edge of a cliff, with the adrenaline rushing through his veins .His eyes fell on the face of the warlock, his eyes, now golden, were glittering with something that was probably a great happiness, his full lips curved into a slight smile, and he found himself thinking, like the first time that their gazes met, that he was incredibly handsome. It was then that he decided to let go and throw himself headlong into the unknown, with the knowledge that, if he had, he wouldn't be able to go back. He threw himself with a vigorous impetus to the son of Lilith, throwing his arms to encircle his neck in a hug. He squeezed, as if he feared that, as the illusion that had confused him, could vanish at any moment, drifting from the scent of sandalwood that he had grown to love over time, just as he had done with the warlock. He felt his heartbeat accelerate furiously when the warlock squeezed back with the same despair and happiness, and, just for a moment, he found himself cursing the envious time and the cruel war that threatened to separate them soon. In each of their hugs, of their lazy afternoons of kissing and sleeping huddled together, he had learned about the slow and reassuring beat of Magnus, he learned to distinguish it from all others, but at that moment, the same heart he thought he knew as his own, just as furiously pounded against his chest, to the point that it was no longer possible to distinguish his own from the one of the warlock. He knew he was flushed, but he didn't care: he slightly broke away from the embrace, bringing a hand gently on the cheek of the child of Lilith to draw his face down to his own. When their lips met, a sweet feeling of familiarity hit Alec, bringing a smile on the lips of the other. Everything looked familiar in that gesture: the warmth of Magnus' lips on his ones, their slightly spicy flavor, the warm breath against his cheek, the secure hands that held him tight to the sorcerer's chest. At that time there were only he and Magnus, and he cared little about what would have happened next, he knew that together they could face any battle.

* * *

_**~ Welcome To The Jungle**_

And here's the fourth step? Is that sweet enough? xD Anyway, as usual, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes in the various steps, but my English has still a long way to run to become better. Thank you all for following the story, and please, if you have any suggestions don't hesitate to let me know. :)

Peace, Love ( & _**Review**_)


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